


A Rose, By Any Other Name

by zahhisio



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, F/M, Language of Flowers, Romance, Slow Burn, Wingman Hilda Valentine Goneril
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:27:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29378487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zahhisio/pseuds/zahhisio
Summary: Marianne, a university student with a green thumb, has just opened up her flower shop, but she is not doing so well. Her friend, Hilda, offers to help with promoting her shop, but due to circumstances, someone else comes in her stead: Lorenz. With his help (and his beautiful hands), Marianne's business starts to bloom, as well as her relationship with Lorenz.Updates biweekly unless stated otherwise (check the end notes!)
Relationships: Marianne von Edmund/Lorenz Hellman Gloucester
Comments: 5
Kudos: 15
Collections: The Three Houses AU Bang





	1. Spring of Birth

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is written as submission to the Three Houses AU Bang. (@FE3HAUBang on Twitter). The idea of a Lorenz/Marianne fic came from the remnants of brainstorming the plot for a separate bang with my artist friend, and I'm glad that I can finally make it come true.
> 
> This fic will be updated (hopefully) weekly. But until then, enjoy!

_“Have you heard of the flower shop in our campus’ courtyard?”_

_“The sea of vibrant colors in a wooden wagon, and the gentle girl whose green thumb makes it come to life…”_

_“Her smile and the fragrant flowers she brings with her will soothe your soul in an instant.”_

* * *

Anyone acquainted with little Marianne von Edmund would know at a first glance that she was never the type of person to wear her heart on her sleeves. As amiable as she was to others, she never said more than it was necessary for her to. She was exactly the type of person who can easily blend in with the background and have no one notice her disappearance - a perfect example of a wallflower, so to speak.

What they do not know, however, is that this wallflower would bloom into a different person in front of her own garden. When facing no one but the beautifully designed flower beds, housing flowers of different kinds, she was a different person: talkative and outgoing. This favorite pastime of hers was ingrained ever since her father introduced her to a vacant garden behind their house.

Communication was never her forte - while this was out of shyness, not maliciousness, she maintained her stance on being more outspoken in front of her silent witnesses rather than actual people. In addition to that, she admitted to her father that she loved to see the little seeds under her care gradually grow into vivid flowers of differing colors. They never failed to make her heart awash with happiness and satisfaction, and she never stopped loving the fruits of her effort, even well into her adolescence, after she grew out of her shyness.

* * *

One morning, after listening to Marianne’s story about her flowers for the umpteenth time, Marianne's father had an epiphany. 

“Why don’t you try selling them?” His nonchalantly way of speaking earned him Marianne’s undivided attention. After a sip of fresh hot herbal tea prepared by his own daughter and her harvest, he continued. “You get to make money, and people get to have the beautiful flowers you grow. It’s a step towards learning to manage your own business, too. ”

Marianne was not surprised by his suggestion one bit. Her father had long talked about bequeathing his business to her. He taught her everything she needed to know to achieve that, aside from allowing her to pursue education in the nearest university. One of the things he taught her entailed business management. Still, while he had ensured that nothing but top-level knowledge was passed down from him to Marianne, they both knew that hands-on experience would be worth more than spending hours cooped up in the library with books and lectures.

And so, armed with a simple, custom-made wooden wagon her father ordered from a friend, Marianne set out to begin her business in her university’s courtyard. Garreg Mach University did give its students the privilege to use its spacious courtyard for non-malicious purposes, but throughout the university’s history, Marianne was the only one who used said privilege to open a flower shop in the middle of all the club recruitment stands and donation drives. 

Soon enough, Marianne’s radiant smile and the wagon full of flowers next to her caught the attention of the students of Garreg Mach University. Alas, even with points for her unique endeavor, her business remained a relatively quiet one. Aside from the curious souls or two passing by, not a lot of people stopped to buy her flowers. 

She never minded it that much - at least until her new friend at university, Hilda, came up with an idea she brought up when they met.

“Instagram?” a puzzled Marianne repeated Hilda’s words when they finally got to meet in the cafe a few blocks away from the university they studied at.

Hilda nodded enthusiastically, After setting aside the box of macaroons she and Marianne had picked off over the course of friendly talks, her fingers deftly tapped and slid across her phone to pull up a profile she had made for her friend. It was still a blank sheet of nothing, with zero followers and following and a clearly well-thought out username of _adawdkjahdlka._

“Yes! I mean, that flower wagon of yours does catch plenty of attention already…,” said Hilda. She shot a glance at the wagon, parked a few steps away from their table. Even when left unattended, the flowers inside remained safe - then again, who would risk confrontations just for a few flowers?

“But we should do more!” Hilda continued, her tone becoming slightly forceful. ”And a social media page is a step in that direction.”

It was not as if Marianne did not know what Hilda was talking about. She *did* have her own Instagram page - it was, however, just as sparse as the account Hilda had freshly made for her, and it's only use was for the countless animal- and plant-based accounts that she followed just in case she needed a mood booster. To have an account dedicated to her brief dip into a self-managed business might be too much for her.

“I don’t know about that, Hilda…,” Marianne mumbled. “I’m already satisfied with what I have right now.”

Fully used to her friend’s demure demeanor, Hilda sighed. “Oh, Mari! The flowers you sell are as cute as the one growing them, and yet you’re not selling that much per day, aren’t you?”

“Well…”  
  
“Which is why you’ll. Need. Exposure.” Hilda said, unhesitant in cutting in, every pause in her sentence driving her point home. “And I’ll cover that part for you!” 

Marianne knew that there was no talking Hilda out of it - as someone who had been friends with her for a few years, she knew that whenever Hilda could not get someone else to do something, she’d do it in a heartbeat. It was a trait that did not show up often in her interactions with the droves of boys that were wrapped around her finger, but with Marianne, it was different.

“Anyway, are you free this Saturday?” asked Hilda.

“Saturday?” Marianne glanced upwards, recalling nothing off the top of her head. “I am, yes.”

“Then it’s settled!” Hilda beamed. “I’ll come to your house and we’ll take pictures of your flower together. With your beautiful flowers and my beautiful hand, your flowers will be sold out in no time!”

* * *

_mari i’m sorryyyy >__< seems that i’ve got fever _

Hilda’s message, coupled with a picture of her frowning face next to a thermometer flashing a temperature well above 37 degree, was what greeted Marianne Saturday morning.

 _Oh no!_

Marianne typed as fast as she could, her worry making her make typos and erase back and forth. 

_Are you okay, Hilda? Do I need to come to your house?_

A few seconds later, another picture popped up in her chat. It was a shot of Holst, Hilda’s brother that she spoke highly of from time to time, with a towel in one hand and medicine in the other; accompanying it was another text from Hilda. 

_dw lol holst’s already here! you stay there and focus on your photoshoot_

Marianne let out a sigh of relief, but then panicked again after remembering something.

_But you’re sick! Does that mean I’m going to do it myself?_

_i found someone who could help! he’ll be at your house soon ;)_

Rather than relief, Hilda’s reply brought terror to Marianne. ‘He’? Did Hilda just send one of her guy friends right to her house without telling her at all? She was not looking forward to the flurry of questions his father would surely have for her if he saw a guy standing in front of his house, asking about his daughter.

Before she could write up a proper reply to Hilda and tell her to call her friend off, the doorbell rang. Her heart dropped. Barely making time to change out of her pajamas, she hurried out of her room and down the stairs, almost losing her balance on her way to the front door.

To her horror, her father got to the guest first. Marianne slowed down, realizing the futility in rushing any more, and sat down patiently, waiting for her father to finish chatting up with whoever the guest was. He seemed to enjoy talking to the mystery guest, so much that he only noticed Marianne sitting and waiting anxiously for him to finish after long enough. He gestured at her to come.

“Marianne, you have a guest!”

* * *

Lorenz knew Hilda for way too long for him to refuse her request for help.

Their relationship started from a one-sided attraction that came from Lorenz, which petered out as the young son of the Gloucester family grew older and wiser and realized that it was never going to work out. Funnily enough, his repeated - and failed - efforts in wooing her allowed him to forge an actual friendship with her. Even well into the university years, however, Lorenz could not help but earnestly fulfill Hilda’s request, provided that they were within reason.

And what part of ‘helping a friend take pictures of her flowers’ is not within reason?

With that reasoning in mind, Lorenz found himself arriving at the bust stop located near the gates of a housing complex not far from the university. Stepping out of the shuttle bus in a beige long coat and white turtleneck, as per Hilda’s request to look ‘presentable’, he walked towards the nearest bench, sat down, and pulled out his phone.

 _heyas_ [ _👋_ ](https://emojipedia.org/waving-hand/) _here’s where the place should be ^ just hmu if you’re lost_

A screenshot of a map was attached to Hilda’s message, shown just above it. Lorenz tapped on it, increasing the image’s size, and pinched and dragged his finger around the screen as he tried to make sure where he was and where he should head towards. Hilda’s screenshot, coupled with his asking for directions to the security personnel around the complex, successfully brought him to the porch of a house that looked almost the same as the others next to it, save for a winding path seemingly leading to the house’s patio.

After clearing his throat and fixing his hairdo, Lorenz pressed on the doorbell. The jingle rang throughout the house, then soft footsteps followed. The door swung open to reveal a middle-aged man with greying hair and a solemn, dignified look, slightly tainted by the visible surprise he had on his face.

“May I help you?” the man asked.

Lorenz took a deep breath before answering him. “My name is Lorenz Gloucester, and upon the request of a friend of mine, I have come to assist a…” He furrowed his eyebrows for a moment, trying to recall the name of Hilda’s friend. “A Marianne von Edmund?”

The man’s eyes widened. “Oh! Then you’ve come to the right house,” he said with a smile. “I’m her father, Georgius Edmund. It’s a pleasure to meet a friend of Marianne’s.”

Before Lorenz could correct his statement, he turned towards his house’s interior and called out to a silhouette Lorenz spotted going down the stairs. “Marianne, you have a guest!” Mr. Edmund said.

Upon his beckoning, the silhouette skittered towards the entrance, and when the morning light casted itself upon it, a girl around his age appeared before Lorenz. She looked half-asleep, her long, turquoise hair was let loose, and she was still in her pajamas. After making sure she was the same person Hilda gave him a picture of the previous night, Lorenz began.

“Hello, Marianne.” 

Marianne replied with a soft “Hello” and a slight bow of her head.

“I’m Lorenz, and my friend - and yours - Hilda told me that you need assistance in a certain matter,” he continued.

“Oh, yes!” Marianne confirmed with a voice loud enough for her father, who stood a few steps behind her, to listen to. “I need help with taking pictures of my flowers for my Instagram. I’m going to start selling them and I need a few pictures to post from the account.”

Lorenz’s eyes widened. “Ah! So what Hilda said was true. Well, then, allow me to help.”

Marianne’s visible gratitude elated him. He felt a tinge of gratitude towards Hilda in his heart. As a person who insisted that a rose suit him the most, Lorenz accepted her request partly due to his willingness to discuss the matter of flowers with someone Hilda spoke highly about. 

That, and he had to admit - not to Hilda, of course, or else she’d stick her nose in his business - that he was interested after seeing Marianne in the picture he got. Still, he was a grown man, and he reined himself from making unnecessary, cheesy advances. He was not the Lorenz from back then, after all.

After a brief silence, he noticed Marianne making a small gesture at him, asking him to make way for her. He almost did - until he, in turn, noticed something off about her. “Um,” Lorenz hummed while looking away, trying to find the right words to say. 

“Yes?” 

“Are you going to change out or that, or...?”

Marianne was frozen stiff. Her cheeks flushed. She withdrew into the second floor, into her room, without making further eye contact with Lorenz and her father. While Mr. Edmund simply chuckled at his daughter’s antics, Lorenz gulped, afraid that he made a grave mistake. His worry only amplified on his way to the backyard, guided by Marianne, who had changed into a white dress and a cardigan. 

The trip was a silent one; Marianne was, no doubt, still embarrassed over the morning blunder, and he himself had no idea how to break the ice. The only information he had been given by Hilda was that one of her friends needed his help, and nothing more than that. Still, Lorenz agreed to help her without so much as a question or complaint - and so there he was, walking with a girl he had never seen or talked to before that day towards a place Hilda dubbed as her ‘favorite place’ over texts.

A trip through lush greenery was something he did not expect in the little pocket of the city of Fodlan. His university, his own home, the buildings he passed by on his way to and fro classes - even when summed up, their trees and bushes would not compare to the path he took with Marianne. It was as if there was an unexplored wilderness that would lead to a magnificent sight behind her house.

The two walked through little arches that had vines wrapped around their metal frames and stepped on carefully spaced cobblestone tiles, both still unsure of what to say to one another. Lorenz’s curiosity finally compelled him to speak, but right as he opened his mouth, Marianne cut in with a question.

“Did Hilda tell you anything else other than me needing her help?”

“I’m afraid not.” Lorenz shook his head as his hand pushed away a stray vine that poked his head. “That was all she said.”

Marianne remarked off-handedly with a, “Is that so.” And so silence fell over the two again.

Stifled by the awkward air between them, Lorenz resigned to admiring the microcosm that had seemingly whisked him away into another world. Save for a few branches or vines that stick out, seemingly eager to disturb his pondering, everything was tidy and trimmed and presented in an eye-catching way. Were there a fairy godmother or a couple of gnomes peeking from behind the hedges, it would be the perfect scenery for a childhood fairytale.

The path taken by him and Marianne, winding along a series of arches similarly wrapped in vines just like the first one, felt like it would never end - but as soon as he thought of that, he noticed that Marianne had picked up the pace and hastened her steps. He followed suit, infected by her eagerness…

And was welcomed with the refreshing sight of a little garden waiting for him at the end of the path.

The scent of flowers permeated the air and wafted into him. Racks of potted plants, many of them bearing flowers of multiple shapes and colors, surrounded the narrow but sizable patch of well-trimmed grass and patio that covered the entire garden. Whatever corner of the garden the grass did not cover was neatly bordered with red bricks and pebbles for more plants and bushes to grow in the well put dirt.

One step through a short, metallic gate, and Lorenz felt like he was whisked into yet another world - one that was separate from the hustle and bustle of the city of Garreg Mach or the delightful calm of the path he just took.

“So, what do you think?” Marianne asked, a hint of pride heard in her voice. The hem of her sundress fluttered as she spun and faced Lorenz, a smile etched on her previously neutral face. Briefly, her smile shone brightly, capturing his attention more than any other flower surrounding him and her.

He was stupefied long enough for him to actually forget to answer her - such an unexpected reaction made her tilt her head in confusion, snapping Lorenz out of it.“To be frank, I am at a loss for words,” replied him, his composure already gathered. “I’ve not seen a few that many gardens myself, but I am certain that yours give them all a run for their money.”

Marianne giggled. “Thank you.” She walked towards the table in the middle of the patio. On it were bouquets of various sizes, each of them housing a different assortment of flowers. Lorenz followed her, his desire to look at the flowers more closely overtaking him. He subconsciously picked up one of them - it was a flower as purple as his hair, its petals arranged like a puffball - and held it daintily, his long fingers wrapping around its stem as he tried to get used to what he was asked to help for.

After preparing the flowers that were to take part in the photoshoot and tidying up the bouquet, Marianne asked. “Are you ready for the photoshoot?”

“I’m ready when you are,” he answered firmly.

* * *

The photoshoot process went by faster than he expected. 

He attempted to be as cooperative as he could by following Marianne’s directions as she aimed at him with her camera. They trembled ever so slightly as he struggled to hold the flower by his fingers, forcing him to hold his breath to steady himself. He’d gasp for air after every take, but before Marianne could voice out her concern, he would regain his composure almost immediately and request for the next take.

The flowers meant for the photoshoot were arranged tidily on the table, set aside from the bouquets they originally belonged to. The orderly arrangement helped Lorenz to easily pick up his next subject between shots, save for his initial confusion in deciding which flower Marianne instructed him to take for the next picture. She would tell him, “Pick up the peony!” or “Take the gerbera!”, and without fail, Lorenz would look at her with knitted eyebrows - a signal for her to correct herself and refer to the flowers by their color and physical features.

Through these exchanges, little by little, he familiarized himself with the flowers before him. As a hopeless romantic that he was back in his adolescence, he only knew of roses, red ones in particular, as he used it often in his attempts to woo girls left and right. The timeless association that flower had with romanticism made him claim it as ‘his flower’. He had long since abandoned that notion, but the fact that he was only familiar with one type of flower remained - at least, until today.

The flowers that had their picture taken, with Lorenz’s hand wrapped around their stem, were set aside on another end of the round table. They piled on as the photoshoot session went on and on until nothing remained of the original set of flowers, signifying the end of the session. 

Lorenz let out a satisfied sigh as he put the last subject - a ‘daffodil’, as Marianne called it - on the table. He stared at the pile of flowers again. Their sweet scent blended and reminded him of the many times he put each of them close to him while he had their picture taken. At this point, he could say that he was made drunk by their allure.

Snapping himself out of his wondering, he glanced aside and peeked at Marianne. She was staring gleefully at the photos she took, each swipe of her finger on her phone renewing her smile. Eager to know how he looked in those pictures she took, he walked up to her and stared at the screen from her side. 

While he did not have a lot to say when it comes to photography, he was certain that Marianne had successfully captured the flowers’ beauty in his hand. What surprised him, however, was the way she took their pictures. He had thought that the flowers’ close-up pictures were all that she took, but she had included him in the pictures instead. Not that he’d complain about it - if anything, he was slightly flattered.

Noticing Lorenz’s interest, Marianned gestured at him to come ever closer. “Look, Lorenz! They come out nicely, don’t you think?” she asked with a giggle.

He was slightly surprised by how friendly she had become as time went by. She was still not much of a talker, but an increasing amount of words coming out of her mouth every time she started speaking was a good sign for him. After all, spending the day in total, uncomfortable silence would not do well for the two of them.

In response to her question, he walked up to Marianne and craned over her shoulder. Putting his face close to hers in an attempt to observe the photos in detail, he soon incurred Marianne’ surprise. She yelped and stepped away from Lorenz with a faint blush on her cheeks, making him aware of his own actions and blush in turn. 

“Ah! I apologize for being too close,” he muttered rapidly, his eyes glancing away.

“No, no, it’s fine!” Marianne quickly forgave Lorenz. She glanced away, trying her hardest to stop the blush on her cheeks from spreading. “I’m just surprised, is all.”

“I see. In any case, I am happy that I can be of help.”

“Me too! Though I was surprised that Hilda would send you without explanation…”

Lorenz sighed. “She’s always acting on her whims, that Hilda.”

Marianne’s face lit up, an idea popping up in her mind. “Now that we’re here, do you mind if I prepare tea for the two of us?”

“Oh, you don’t have to go through so much trouble for me!” Lorenz shook his head.

“Please, just think of it as a token of gratitude.”

Faced with Marianne’s pure, but also determined, intentions, Lorenz relented. After helping her move all the flowers scattered across the table, he sat himself down on one of the chairs. Marianne walked into her house and came out with a tray after a while. On it were two teacups, a teapot, and a bowl of baked treats that Lorenz quickly picked up from the tray. 

“I brewed the tea using butterfly pea flowers,” explained Marianne as she set the tray aside. She then pointed at a group of vines tangling themselves in a fence nearby that had little blue flowers about them. Lorenz hummed, amazed that something else other than tea leaves could make a good tea. 

His amazement increased twofold when he poured the tea out of the pot - the liquid did not have the usual golden-brown color of a tea, but rather a vivid blue. Were it not for the aromatic scent that traveled with the tea’s warmth and Marianne’s eyes that were full of expectation, he certainly would not dare to drink it. He gulped in fear - hoping that Marianne, across the table, did not hear it - and took a swig of the tea. The saccharine taste, compounded with the eye-catching beauty of the liquid itself, made Lorenz beam.

With the tea time off to a good start, the two spent their time sipping the freshly brewed tea while chatting. Hours went by as they talked about anything and everything that came to their minds: university, major, daily life, and many other things. Marianne learned of Lorenz’s history with Hilda and how they finally became friends through his botched attempt at wooing her throughout their high school years; in turn, Lorenz learned of Marianne’s new but strong friendship with Hilda, and how they accidentally stuck together through thick and thin throughout Marianne’s years in the university.

Swallowed by the romanticism of spending time while surrounded by blooming flowers and drinking fine tea, the sense of time was distorted for the two of them. Soon, they realized that the sky had turned slightly orange, signaling to Lorenz that he must take his leave.

“It was a fun chat, Marianne,” he said as he rose from his chair, “but it seems that it’s time for me to go home.”

“Oh, right! Thanks again for helping me today,” said Marianne. She paused, as if gathering her thoughts, then continued. “Um, I actually have something for you as a gift. Please wait here!”

Lorenz raised an eyebrow as he watched her run into her house once again. Later, she returned with her hands cupping a pot of plant. On the top of the dirt filling the pot to the brim was a flowering plant, its flower yellow and elaborate in shape.

“Is this… for me?” Lorenz stammered, confused.

“It’s a yellow orchid,” explained Marianne. “In flower language, this flower symbolizes friendship.”

_Flower language?_

Lorenz could not wrap his head around the concept of flower language. For the longest time, he had thought that every single flower in the world, including his ever-beloved rose, was meant to show one’s love towards it’s recipient. But here came a girl, claiming that the flower before him only meant friendship… and nothing more. 

As confusing as it was, he was still grateful for the show of friendship from her.

“Thank you kindly, Marianne,” he said, receiving the pot of orchid from her. “I’ll be sure to take care of this gift.”

His promise seemed to cheer her up further. She beamed at him - the smile did not disappear throughout her lengthy explanation on how to take care of the orchid. After all was said and done, and after Marianne gave Lorenz a piece of paper written with everything she had said, she sent her on his way to the bus station at which he arrived.

The bus arrived not long after that. With his hands occupied, he departed with a polite bow towards Marianne and got on the bus. On his way, he kept glancing at the orchid he had with him, each glance bringing him back to the time he spent with Marianne.

He still failed to grasp the logic behind the reason this little, yellow flower symbolizes ‘friendship’.

* * *

Later that night, a few minutes after her dinner session - which turned into an impromptu interrogation from her father about Lorenz - Marianne sent all the pics she took with Lorenz to Hilda, tapping at them one by one, pausing at each to admire the fruit of her work and find the perfect ratio for cropping them. Every time she did so, she found her eyes gravitating towards Lorenz’s face; every time they did, her mind went back to the photoshoot session, when he, naturally adept at emphasizing the flowers’ natural beauty, calmly gazed at the flower, focused at nothing but it as she aimed at him with her camera…

She shut her eyes tight and shook her head, clearing her mind of her imagination. Embarrassed, she tapped on and cropped the pictures faster than ever, sending them to Hilda straight away once she was done. A few minutes after the pictures reached her, Hilda replied with a message.

_they look good! i knew i picked the right guy for this ;-)_

Marianne became flustered. In Hilda’s defense, Lorenz _did_ look like he was a wonderful man.

_He was very helpful today. And he’s a pleasant person to talk to!_

_oooh someone’s interested!!!!_

_Huh? What are you talking about?_

Marianne sent a sticker of a frowning horse along with her message in an attempt to fool Hilda, but she had a feeling that she couldn’t fool her friend so easily.

_anyways, i’ll get to posting the pics right away. look forward to it o/_

_Thanks! See you tomorrow!_

With things settled, Marianne locked her phone’s screen, set it aside, and closed her eyes, eager to see how things turn out the next day.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If any of you kind readers have a good reference for flower language, I'd love to have them because I am unsure of the tens of web pages that I opened to get the yellow orchid's meaning.
> 
> Unfortunately, I have to spend at least one more week in order to upload the last chapter. IRL responsibilities and all... but please look forward to the next chapter!


	2. Chapter 2

The university’s library was not a place that Lorenz would religiously attend, if at all. Despite being very familiar with its often-prided about, extensive collection, the son of Gloucester still preferred buying his own books to read in the comfort of his own abode. This time, however, curiosity got the best of him, and he had no patience for waiting for the book he wanted to reach his doorsteps. He wanted it as soon as possible, if only to sate his own questioning mind, which still wondered about the truth behind the pot of orchid Marianne gave him a few days ago.

Could a flower convey any other feeling than love? Was he being too pretentious for assuming the intention behind her gift? These questions linger in his mind, compelling him to seek his answers right after the first class of Monday was over.

As if the path he took to the library was not alien enough, no thanks to him rarely coming to the library, the library itself threw him off as well. The moment he stepped through the large, towering mahogany doors that remained open most of the time to let students in, Lorenz felt like he was whisked into another world - one that smelled of old books and hidden knowledge. Tables filled with students like him, some of them chatting and some of them staring into and flipping the pages of their own books, occupy most of the library’s space. Light from outside was cast into the room through large windows, giving the place a much-needed lighting.

He had thought of the library as a boring, uninteresting place at first, but it was hard to beat its current impression on him.

Done with standing around, Lorenz spotted a librarian occupying the front desk, not far from where he stood. “Good morning,” he approached him with a greeting. 

The librarian, not taking his eyes off the computer screen in front of him, greeted him back. “Good morning. May I help you?”

“I’d like to know whether you have a book on…,” his words trailed off as he tried to recall the word he wanted to say. The librarian hesitantly tried to interrupt him, but was caught by surprise by Lorenz’s sudden outburst.   
  
“Floriography!” he said in a slightly louder voice - one that turned some students’ heads at him as they glared at the purple-haired newcomer, angry that he had broken their concentration. Blissfully unaware of their hostility, Lorenz stared at the librarian, expecting an immediate answer.

Fingers glided across the keyboard, hitting them with pinpoint precision, as the librarian searched for the book in his database. After a while, he spoke again to Lorenz. “It should be in the Literature section. Check for the bookshelf labeled ‘700-799’.”

“What do those numbers mean?”

“It’s a decimal system we used to classify books. Beats going through the shelves one by one.”

Lorenz nodded solemnly. Once again, he learned something new, “Thank you kindly for your assistance, sir,” he said.

“Mmhmm.” 

The librarian’s dismissive answer did not irk Lorenz even one bit; instead, he promptly made his way towards the bookshelf the librarian directed him towards quietly. The bookshelf was not that far, but the astounding amount of books he had to sort out to find the one he wanted presented yet another challenge at him - one he would never back away from. He began focusing his attention at the book spines facing him, frowning at each one of them that said nothing about floriography…

In the end, it took him mere seconds to get the one he wanted. And then there were one more, and another, each placed conveniently next to the first one he found. Beaming in happiness, he took them all and formed a stack of them to carry to the nearest table, taking care not to make a loud thud while doing so.

All settled, he took the first book on the top of the stack and started reading.

* * *

On the first day of opening up shop after the photoshoot, Marianne’s anxiety was at its peak.

She really wanted her efforts to bear fruit, considering the great lengths she had gone to and the kind support she received from her friends - or friend, for that matter, considering that Lorenz was still an acquaintance and nothing more.

She wondered whether the flower she gave him carried its meaning to him. She then remembered that she did tell him blatantly about it, and now wondered about another thing - whether he would accept her intentions or not. The back-and-forth between “of course he will” and “of course he won’t” as an answer worried her to no end, and so she refocused herself on today’s goal: seeing by herself whether Hilda’s marketing tactics worked well.

Fortunately, her Monday class schedule was friendly towards her plan of standing by at the courtyard right after lunch. After wolfing down her food, she ran to her flower wagon, which was standing by at a spot near the parking lot, and began pushing it inside to the courtyard; and so began the long wait, with her lounging around, awaiting for customers as always.

A few minutes passed by, and so did a few students, but none of them seemed to bat an eye at Marianne. The lack of customers, especially during such a time where a few would come at normal days, troubled her slightly; she opened her messaging app, glancing again at the latest message she received from Hilda.

_ u go girl  _ _ 👍 _

Her short, simple message put a smile on Marianne’s face again. Right then, she noticed someone standing in front of her. She looked up to find a student, accompanied by his friends who were hanging around him..

“Hello!” Marianne beamed at her first potential customer of the day, who seemed to be quite shy, unlike the loud ones behind him. “May I help you?”

The green-haired student stammered for a moment. “U-um, I saw your flower’s page on the internet, you see. I’d… like to buy a flower.”

“For what occasion, if I may know?”

“It’s for his girl-” The brown-haired student a few steps behind him yelled for a moment before his friends promptly ganged up on him, covering his mouth with one of their hands.

“Shut up, Tobin,” the tanned student said. The last of the bunch, a man with white hair and tired complexion, simply flashed a thumbs-up at their green-haired friend, his hand still muffling the voices of the one called Tobin.

Letting out an exasperated sigh that spoke volumes about his familiarity with his friends’ hijinks, the green-haired boy answered, “It’s for my girlfriend - he got that right. She’s been sick for a couple of days, and I’d like to get her a flower as a ‘get well soon’ sign.”

“Oh, then I have just the flower for you.” Marianne turned to her wagon and began sorting through the flowers she brought with her, while her mind busily sorted through the flowers’ meaning.  _ If he wants to send a flower to someone sick, then that means… I got it _ !

Among multiple bouquets, she picked one with peculiarly colored pansies - white, with purple spreading from its center - and took it out of the wagon. Holding it tenderly, she presented it to the green-haired boy, who stared at her and then the flower. He blinked a few times, confused by the gesture, prompting Marianne to explain to him her choice.

“Pansies are the perfect choice for you, then,” she said. “These flowers are suitable for expressing your feelings, and they make good get-well flowers as well.” Realizing that she was getting no reaction from any of the people in front of her, she glanced away, her fingers fidgeting.

“Ah, I’m sorry for taking your time!”

“No, it’s fine,” the green-haired boy said. He scratched the back of his head and continued, “I came with the thought that I’d get just any flower, but it seems that you give a lot of thoughts to your customers. That’s a wonderful thing.”

His sincere praise elated Marianne. Smile returned to her face, and cheerfulness returned to her tone. 

“Thank you so much!”

* * *

The first order of the day was complete, and Marianne was even more fired up than ever. The words of the green-haired boy - she found out later that his name is Alm after asking it to write a personalized card that would go along with the flower bouquet - reminded her again of her original goal: to share her flowers with others, while also learning how to manage her own business.

Armed with a little notebook and a pen, she logged all the purchases made in her little ‘shop’. One thing she did not expect, however, was how fast the book would be filled; Hilda’s advice and help seemed to work its magic as one by one the curious students stopped by and purchased her flowers, many of them admitting that they saw the Instagram page Hilda made for her. With the sizable amount of people present, they waited in anticipation and formed queues as she handled each customer by asking about their occasions. For love interests, for parents, for friends… The situations were numerous, but Marianne would, without fail, select the correct flower for her customer. None complained - most of them were even amazed at how different flowers convey different meanings - and they always took off happily with their bouquets.

The glaring light of high noon fell on Marianne and her wagon, now empty for the first time since her foray into her business. Totally, definitely, absolutely empty. It was an absolute success on her end, and so she let out a sigh of relief. She was about to push her wagon and call it a day before she noticed a familiar figure approaching her.

“Mari!” Hilda called out to Marianne gleefully. She had informed Marianne that she was going to be held back by classes and thus miss her idea’s contribution to her friend, but one look at the empty wagon was all she needed to know it.

“Hilda!” Marianne gave her friend a hug. “How are you? I hope you’ve recovered from your fever.”   
  
“I’m fine, thanks!” Hilda replied, smiling widely. She was undoubtedly back to her usual, chipper self, as if she was never sick in the first place. 

With the sun at its brightest, the two moved towards the shade, courtesy of one of the trees decorating the courtyard. Once they made themselves comfortable, Hilda pointed at the empty wagon and puffed her chest in pride, making Marianne laugh.

“Seems that you’re doing fine yourself!” she noted. “I told you that one Instagram page will help a lot.”

“It’s… unbelievable. I’m even almost running out of things to sell!”

“Well, good for you!” 

The two chatted for a while, with Hilda telling stories of how her super-duper-awesome big brother took care of her and Marianne describing each of the choices she made for her customers. Minutes flew by quickly as the two laughed and cheered each other up, and soon enough a look at her phone’s watch startled Hilda.

“Oh, right!” she groaned and smacked her forehead. “I need to go to class soon.” Hurriedly, she put her phone back in her bag and hurried towards the building again, bidding farewell at Marianne with a wave of her hand.

“See you later, Mari!”

“Hilda, wait!”   


Marianne called out to Hilda, stopping her in her tracks.

“What is it?”

“Um, umm…” Marianne hesitated to ask her friend for a second, but then mustered enough courage to do so. “Have you seen Lorenz anywhere today?”

Pleasantly surprised, Hilda flashed a devilish grin as she cackled quietly. “Ooh, someone’s interested.” She teased her friend with a wriggle of her eyebrows, causing her to fluster and stutter.

“I-It’s not like that!” Marianne defended herself. Having had enough of her own fun, Hilda relented. “Just kidding! I’ll send your contact info later today, okay?”

“Sure thing.”

With the matter settled, Hilda returned to her class, her steps hastened after realizing she might not really make it. Marianne watched as her figure shrunk and disappeared into the university building, ruminating on the question she asked her friend before while being embarrassed by her own burst of bravery.

* * *

Putting away the last of his books, Lorenz stood up to watch the commotion from the courtyard. The crowd’s voices, muffled by the distance between him and it, caught the attention of several of the library-goers, so much that some of the less studious and more leisuring ones decided to go out and investigate the fracas themselves. But he wasn’t one of them, for he had a goal in mind, and he had set out to do it.

That notion was only strengthened by the presence of someone he recognized in the middle of the crowd: Marianne, the girl she helped a few days ago. Next to her was a wagon full of many of the flowers he had seen with his own eyes in her garden, grouped into bouquets just like last time. He noticed that she was selling them one-by-one, each process a lengthy one due to some sort of a session of back-and-forth questions he obviously could not overhear.

_ That must be due to the ‘flower language’ thing, _ he reckoned. Marianne and the numerous books he had gathered taught him that much - that a flower carries meanings in them, whether it be love, wishes, admiration, or something else. For her to be able to properly pick the right ones every time was a feat on its own, which amazed him.

Perhaps if he understood the flowers as deep as her, he’d be able to connect with her more. 

With that thought slowly driving him, Lorenz returned to his books and drowned himself in them once again, intent on educating himself. Suddenly, however, a message flashed on his phone screen; after ensuring that the librarian was not looking at his way, he peeked at it.

The very same Marianne had messaged him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, with this chapter released, I want to inform you guys that due to getting a new job, I'm going to make this a biweekly thing instead of weekly. Thank you for your understanding, and I hope those who keep reading this are entertained.


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